soft as nostalgia
by Exceeds Expectations
Summary: "I'm sorry," Sirius says quietly, but he does not pull away and he does not kiss Remus again. He simply holds him, in the silence, and hopes that is enough. /Remus, Sirius, and seven moments that make them. For Sam.


**A/N:** Written for Round 2 of the House Cup Competition. Puff pride, ladies and gents! The following prompts were used: _RemusSirius, thunderstorm, a character must deny something, "Shut up and kiss me.", excited, socks, delicate, yellow, "Don't you dare!", wand_ and _faith_. Whew.

Title from Andrea Gibson's poem _I Do. _The full line reads: "_In a world that could have left us hard as metal, we were soft as nostalgia together._"

Dedicated to my darling wifey Sam on the occasion of her 20th birthday. It's been a while since you stumbled into my life and I hope it's a long, long time before you ever stumble out. Happy birthday, beautiful. I love you.

Thanks to Joanna for looking over this!

* * *

_Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life._

**Omar Khayyam**

* * *

**one**

When they are young and drunk and stupid, Sirius kisses Remus in a way that means _I'm sorry I haven't done this before. _Remus kisses back, tucks _it's okay, it's okay_ beneath his tongue and presses _what are we doing _into the curve of Sirius' hip, marvels how it fits against his palm so perfectly, feels the _is this it _that Sirius traces into the small of is back, the _is everything changing _that shivers across his skin with the curl of Sirius' fingers, and smiles against those soft, pink lips.

"I'm sorry," Sirius says quietly, but he does not pull away and he does not kiss Remus again. He simply holds him, in the silence, and hopes that is enough.

* * *

**two**

He is sixteen when he fucks it all up. He opens his mouth and the words fly out like daggers and Snape's eyes are narrowed and Sirius' heart is hammering and he doesn't even realise how very wrong it's all gone. Not yet.

The next morning, Remus shivers in his hospital bed, all pale skin and anger. He glowers, is silent as the night, and Sirius thinks it strange how someone so broken and fragile and _delicate _could have possibly almost –

"Remus, I'm so, so – "

"Don't you dare."

He closes his eyes, eyelids thin and translucent, and breathes slowly, waiting for Sirius to leave.

He doesn't.

* * *

**three**

Nineteen, chest to chest, warm skin, the sound of heavy rain, the smell of soap and tea and boy. Sirius' eyes flicker slightly on the brink of sleep, and Remus can't help but smile. He's beautiful, this wonderful mess of a man, and he loves Remus and Remus loves him and that's more than he'd ever hoped for.

Suddenly, for a split second, the almost-darkness of the room is banished, flashing brightbrightbright. Thunder booms somewhere in the distance. Sirius starts, grey eyes flying open, and his hands catch in Remus' t-shirt.

"Idiot," Remus breathes affectionately, and pulls the duvet closer around their shoulders.

"You love me," Sirius yawns, and settles back down to sleep. Remus chuckles softly, burrowing closer to Sirius warm form.

The rain continues to hammer down on the roof, but he can barely hear it over the gentle lull of Sirius' breath.

* * *

**four**

There are nine years of love and trust and understanding between them, and they are being torn apart by doubt. Sirius sits on the floor, legs crossed at the ankle, and speaks, voice detached and monotonous. "Do you think there's a spy?"

Remus considers, his eyes wary and intense and strangely misty. "I hope not."

"That's not what I asked," Sirius murmurs, and pulls absently on a loose thread on his left sock.

Remus sighs. "Yes," he says. "There has to be a spy. It's the only explanation."

"I see," Sirius says without looking up. His voice is light. "And do you think it's me?"

"Sirius, what – how could you think – " Remus splutters, feeling his pulse quicken, heart sinking to his stomach. His hands won't stop shaking. "I love you. You know that."

His voice drops lower than Remus' heart when he repeats, "That's not what I asked."

* * *

**five**

There is a rush in his veins when the rat turns man. A thrill, an excitement, a _hunger. _Murderous and dark and oozing into his bloodstream in much the same way that hate does.

But Remus is there. Remus is there and his eyes are warm and open and hopeful, clouded with fear and confusion, and Sirius' chest feels tighter than his grip on his own sanity.

Remus points his wand, looks at Sirius with trust and faith and all the things he knows he should've given him before. He can see that now, can feel the almost physical pain of all this wasted time hating Sirius, himself, the _universe_ –

Later, when everything has fallen apart – something about time turners and murder and lying low at Lupin's – and the silver moon has been scared away by the blinding yellow of the morning sun, Sirius cries. Mourns, he supposes, what has become of him, of them, and what they have lost with the running of the rat.

Gently, Remus holds his hand. They do not talk for hours.

* * *

**six**

Remus takes Sirius by the wrists. Doesn't speak. Instead, he kisses him, shoves him back against the wall so that Sirius feels his old bones rattle and shake – and still they do not stop. Remus bites, hopes Sirius will taste his _I'm sorry _in blood, hopes that he will sense the _I should've trusted you _in the imprint of fingernails on slim hips. He presses himself so close against that Azkaban-narrowed frame, feels every jutting bone and every shard of broken soul and breathes in Sirius' _I know I know I know _until his lungs are fit to burst.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," Sirius whispers, and it unfurls itself against Remus' neck, wraps around him like a noose. "What ever happened to happily ever after?"

"What do you think this is?" Remus mumbles, but it is lost against Sirius' lips.

* * *

**seven**

It's been twelve years since he's pressed his lips to the hollow of Remus' throat and it tastes just the same, like love and home and hope. His teeth graze the stubble of Remus' jaw, his lips ghosting over raised scars and soft skin, and Remus breathes quietly beneath him.

"I missed you," he says, voice slipping low and curling around the base of Sirius' spine.

"I know," Sirius smirks, and nuzzles his face into the crook of Remus' neck.

"Twat," Remus mutters, but his fingers are running through Sirius' hair, cradling the shape of Sirius' skull like a fond memory, like a dream only just come true. "Don't pretend you didn't miss me."

Sirius' smile lands somewhere in the pit of his stomach and his throat is scratchy when he whispers to the slope of Remus' shoulder. "Don't you ever, _ever_ think that."

Their eyes meet for just a moment, grey on amber and unspoken apologies on unnecessary excuses and _I love you_s wrapped in gossamer fear.

"Shut up and kiss me," Remus breathes, because it feels right and he wants it and it's all he ever wants, has ever wanted, and there's no point in talking about old pains anymore. Not when they've got a second chance.


End file.
